


You Can't Hack Paper

by Chapeau_42



Category: Carmen Sandiego (Cartoon 2019)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Post-Season/Series 03, but only because S4 hasn't come out yet, chase and julia finally get to be a team, julia is enjoying her new job but hasn't quite left the old one behind, kinda sorta pen pals, some ocs because julia isn't the only person working at this university, what do you do when you're a bit more obsessed with the case than you thought
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:28:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28746228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chapeau_42/pseuds/Chapeau_42
Summary: Julia Argent works at a university. She enjoys her job there, even though she's new.But her old partner starts sending her letters as he drifts away from ACME, while Julia finds that her new job is starting to have a lot in common with her old one. If Agent Devineaux finds the place where he draws the line, what does that mean for Professor Argent?
Relationships: Julia "Jules" Argent & Chase Devineaux
Comments: 7
Kudos: 64





	You Can't Hack Paper

Julia Argent couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

The evidence was right in front of her. She could even touch it. She picked it up again, almost afraid that it might disappear if she wasn’t holding it.

_“you were right”_

The postcard was from the souvenir shop of a Venice museum, advertising its temporary collection of historic masks. Its brief message was left unsigned, but Julia could easily recognize the unkempt scrawl of her former partner’s handwriting. Three words shouldn’t have told her much of anything, but she and Agent Devineaux had argued with each other more than enough times for Julia to know what he meant. She was no longer alone in her understanding of one crucial fact: Carmen Sandiego was a thief who only stole from other thieves.

It was at once a comfort and a curse. What did it mean to her now? Where had this solidarity been when she needed it? Should she return to ACME to help them forge a proper partnership with the Crimson Shadow? She hadn’t managed to do it on her own, but with Devineaux now on her side, they were bound to have some chance to see things through. Weren’t they?

Julia examined the note again.

His writing was messier than usual. It was hasty, as though Devineaux had been racing to get the message out before being caught. It would probably have been easier to call, but any electronic contact would be caught by ACME in an instant. No doubt he had been told to cut all contact with her, but more than that…

If ACME wanted to try working with Sandiego again, the Chief would have contacted Julia herself.

Julia sighed and hid the postcard in the secure drawer of her desk, locking it away out of sight. Even with Devineaux on her side, all the two of them had was a secret to keep. They didn’t stand any chance at all.

* * *

“I believe this is yours, Professor Argent.”

Sticking her fork back into her now-cold mashed potatoes, Julia reluctantly tore her eyes from the sourcebook on the table, only to be greeted by an envelope in her face. Despite herself, she jumped at the surprise. “Professor Vigneault—”

“Oh, please—”

“Jacques.” Julia cut him off, snatching the envelope from his grasp. Best not to argue if she wanted to be rid of him within the hour. “Please stop waving my mail in my face.”

Vigneault frowned as he withdrew his hand. “You know, Professor, you’re not supposed to have personal mail delivered to your work inbox.” He leaned forward, angling his head to better read Julia’s book. “And what, are you looking at the Magna Carta now? Last week it was the Eye of Vishnu! I know you’re new, but that’s no excuse to keep flip-flopping on your research topics.”

“I’m aware of that, Jacques.” Julia stood and gathered her things. If her reward for eating in the cafeteria was a visit from the ever-infuriating Jacques Vigneault – her youngest, most arrogant colleague – then maybe she should just starve in her office instead. “Now if you will excuse me, I have something to attend to.”

Julia locked her office door the moment it closed. After enjoying a refreshing few moments of blessed silence, her attention shifted back to the envelope. She hadn’t been expecting any mail, and maybe it was dangerous, but so long as she was careful, it might give her something to think about besides her growing frustration. The stamp and postmark suggested it was mailed from somewhere in the United Kingdom. Probably London. The handwriting was familiar, if a bit less rushed than before—

Julia tore open the envelope and scrutinized the brief letter with hungry eyes.

_“Ms. Argent— Another escaped operative. Nigel Braithwaite, deputy director of secret service. Unclear how much he manipulated the authorities in recent years. Chief and Zari blame Sandiego for a theft he committed. Not sure who else to trust. Chase.”_

What was the Chief thinking? They had caught a VILE operative manipulating the authorities. And yet ACME remained focused on Carmen Sandiego? Julia shook her head. No, no, she was a researcher now, not an agent. She would get nowhere if she focused on VILE. She read the letter again. There had been a theft, and Carmen Sandiego may have been involved.

Julia turned on her computer. The Magna Carta could wait. She had something new to research.

* * *

“Why do you keep saying that, Professor Argent?”

Julia looked back at her supervisor. “Saying what?”

“Dull facts, boring things,” echoed Professor Beaupré. She leaned over her desk, a serious look on her face. “Your research topics may be a bit… scattered, I suppose, but your work is exemplary. Certainly not dull.” She straightened. “You shouldn’t scold yourself like that. It won’t help you.”

“Sorry. It’s an old habit.”

“Oh?”

“My old partner – from my last job – would say that to me a lot.” Julia caught sight of Beaupré’s raised eyebrow – her signature unimpressed expression, demanding the rest of the story. “He had nearly fifteen years more experience than I did,” elaborated Julia. “I don’t think he could help being a little misguided. His ability to forge ahead no matter the circumstance was admirable, in its own way, but it meant that he only considered things from certain angles, and so we clashed rather often.”

“I see,” said Beaupré. “Well, I certainly hope your colleagues here treat you with more respect. And if they don’t, I want to hear about it.”

“Of course, Professor Beaupré,” agreed Julia. She frowned as she recalled Devineaux’s letter. _Not sure who else to trust._ “…but I’m not sure that respect was the real issue.” She stood. “Thank you for your time.”

“Don’t forget about the intern program, Professor Argent,” called Beaupré as Julia closed the door. “You’d be a good fit!”

Julia decided to take the longer route back to her office. The shorter path back from Professor Beaupré’s office took her past Professor Vigneault’s office, and she didn’t care to risk an encounter with him today. Professor Beaupré had told her that her work was valuable, and Julia believed her, but that didn’t make Jacques’s latest complaints about her choice to study St. Edward’s Crown any less irritating.

And if the longer path gave Julia another opportunity to check her mailbox, then that was just a happy coincidence.

* * *

Julia twirled one of her business cards between her fingers as she considered the news in Devineaux’s latest letter. The stamp and the cheerful stationery marked Japan as its point of origin, but the news it brought wasn’t about VILE or a fresh Sandiego heist. This news just might be worse.

_“Ms. Argent— Sandiego dropped a communicator. Chief traced its signal to get a lead on her hacker. I think he might be the youngest in her crew. Unwise to let the agency apprehend a child – maybe I can find him first. Might need your help. Chase.”_

Yes, definitely worse. The Chief was on the warpath against Carmen Sandiego, and if she set her sights on an actual child – hacker or no – it was going to be bad news. Julia felt useless. She needed to contribute, even if all she did was confirm that yes, she wanted to help. She would help. But there was no way for her to send that message, and it frustrated her to no end. She would gladly spend a full day listening to Jacques complain about her research if it meant she could just communicate this one detail.

She hadn’t felt this useless since the time she had sat in the hospital, waiting for Devineaux to wake up after his brush with VILE. Maybe that was why she had picked up a business card to fiddle with – she had done the same to pass the time back then, only then the card had been Devineaux’s, his already-outdated introduction from her first day with Interpol. She had tucked the card away hastily into his wallet as soon as the door to the hospital room opened – there was no need to appear sentimental in front of anyone from ACME – and she had forgotten about it until Devineaux himself thanked her for it a few days before she quit. He was glad to have it back – after his disastrous trip to the island, it was the last copy he had of his prized Interpol card.

Julia dropped her business card back onto her desk and turned to face the world map on her wall, which was beginning to clutter with pushpins. The ocean of red pins – one red pin for each known Sandiego incident – was slowly being overtaken by a wave of blue pins corresponding to her own research on each stolen artefact. One pin stood out from the rest, a green pin near the center, marking the island Devineaux still insisted had been VILE’s secret base.

Julia took a deep breath and added a second green pin, this time in Japan. What was Sandiego’s lost communicator going to cost her?

* * *

It was always easy to see what Professor Beaupré was thinking.

“What’s on your mind, Chief?” asked Julia. Best to get it over with.

Beaupré’s eyebrows shot up. “Chief?”

“Professor, sorry,” Julia corrected sheepishly.

“Hm.” Beaupré tapped her clipboard idly with her pen, gazing into the distance as she thought. “See, Julia, that’s just it.” She sat up straighter, a look of concern on her face. “At the risk of sounding like Professor Vigneault… You do realize that you’re a history researcher, right? You’re not at your old job anymore. So investigating museum thefts that haven’t even happened—” She tapped her pen on Julia’s monitor for emphasis. “Well. I, for one, don’t see how that’s going to help you.”

Julia cast an embarrassed glance at the internet searches and news articles she had carelessly left visible on her monitor. Of course her supervisor had to come by her office on the one day when she was most distracted. “Well,” said Julia, “I felt I should try to get a head start on the next artefact on my list.”

“I thought you said those were on your list,” replied Beaupré, jabbing her pen towards the red pins coating the office wall. “You can barely tell there’s a map under there! What do you need something new for?”

“I, ah,” scrambled Julia, “I wanted my intern to have something exciting to work on.” Not quite a lie, at least not half as much as it should have been. Her hand found its way to the postcard she had received that morning. That, at least, seemed to have escaped Beaupré’s notice. “Plus, the news coverage should make the search for primary sources more straightforward for him.”

“Him?” asked Beaupré, perking up at the new information. “You have someone in mind?”

“Yes, I do,” admitted Julia. “I was planning to tell you later. I’m not done with the paperwork yet.” She fought to keep her expression neutral. The paperwork wasn’t done because she hadn’t even started it. She didn’t have the boy’s name, she didn’t know his age, she didn’t even have a guarantee that this was what Devineaux had in mind. She was practically drowning in guesswork. “Besides, things aren’t exactly set in stone.”

“I see. In that case, your enthusiasm’s a very good sign. I hope the registration works out. Just remember that you’re mentoring him as a researcher, not a secret agent.” Point made, Beaupré put on her most encouraging smile as she stood to leave. “I told you you’d be a good fit!”

Julia watched her office door drift closed before snatching the postcard back up off her desk. Having read the message a few times already, she glared at the museum-branded image on the back of the card as though she might be able to wring a few additional secrets out of the paper. She was already dangerously low on information, if the card’s message was anything to go by.

_“New sighting in Toronto. Computer child not too far from here, can probably get a solid head start if I annoy Zari enough. We’ll all be touring the area in a few days, once the incident’s over. Not sure what to do once I find him - will keep you posted.”_

The message was vague, but that was the price of sending vital information on a postcard. She barely had any facts. Carmen Sandiego was spotted in Toronto. ACME was preparing to chase her at the museum, then comb the area for the boy who was her hacker. If Devineaux found him first… what then? Would he have to run, too?

Julia buried her face in her hands and groaned. She had thought she belonged in her office, but knowing what was coming made her restless beyond measure. Was this the feeling Devineaux had described as desk-bound despair?

It was going to be a difficult few days.

* * *

Julia drummed her fingers on her desk as she considered whether or not she should take a fifth morning walk to check her inbox for mail. Devineaux had promised to keep her posted, and the implications of his silence worsened with each passing hour. It had taken less than a week for her focus to completely erode, replaced by little more than an itch to jump into action and an aching sense of dread.

That dread tripled when she heard the knock at her office door.

“Professor Argent?” Professor Beaupré called from the hallway.

Julia took a deep breath and make her way over to the door. She didn’t feel up to talking, but it would do her no good to ignore her supervisor altogether. Besides, she could probably find a way to deflect the conversation. If she couldn’t, she would just have to improvise.

She stopped dead as soon as she opened the door.

Professor Beaupré wore a stern expression as she waited in the doorway, but the boy lingering in her shadow – wearing a white ballcap and trailing a suitcase behind him – smiled apologetically as he greeted Julia with a small wave. He wore a lanyard around his neck marking him as an intern. Julia’s intern.

Time to improvise, then.

“I thought you were on top of the paperwork, Julia,” sighed Beaupré.

“What? I could have sworn I sent it,” lied Julia, furrowing her brow for extra effect. “Maybe the network ate the email.”

Beaupré pinched the bridge of her nose as she scrunched her eyes shut. “Forget the network. Get me some paper copies before one o’clock.” She began to step away into the hall. “I’d love to stay for introductions, but I have a lot of phone calls to make.”

Julia and the boy lingered silently in the doorway for a long moment as Beaupré’s footsteps faded into the distance. Eventually, it was time. “Come in. We need to talk.”

She watched the boy as he sat down across from her. He couldn’t be more than sixteen years old, and yet he had managed to tear through all sorts of electronic defenses – even ACME’s own – like they were nothing more than virtual tissue paper. Even so, Julia couldn’t help but notice the way he would twitch and glance around the room as though he half-expected an ACME agent to jump out from behind a bookcase. At the end of the day, Sandiego’s hacker really was just a nervous, vulnerable minor. Devineaux’s intuition had, for once, been absolutely spot on.

The boy took a moment to collect himself. By the time he spoke, his voice was calm and cool. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Jules. My friends call me Player.” He extended his hand over the desk.

Julia shook it. “It’s nice to meet you, too, Player. I’m sure you can help shine a light on a lot of things I’d like to better understand.”

Player followed her gaze to her map of pushpins. He grinned. “I’m sure we can figure something out.”

Julia smiled, then looked away. She was excited to collaborate with someone so deeply involved in Carmen Sandiego’s operations, but there was a lot of administrative work to handle before that could happen. And she didn’t even know if that was safe – was he even supposed to stay and work with her at all? “Sorry for not having things in order. I’ve been expecting instructions that have yet to arrive.”

“Right,” said Player. “About that. I have something for you.” He pulled his wallet from his pocket and handed her a worn business card.

Julia was surprised the card’s design wasn’t a bit more modern. It seemed an odd enough thing for a juvenile hacker to have without the style being so far removed from anything remotely digital. Or maybe she should have expected something red, since that would match—

Julia’s mind suddenly registered the text on the card.

_Inspector Chase Devineaux – Interpol_

The only other text on the card was a fax number she had never used and a phone number she knew for a fact was disconnected. She already knew the back was blank, but she turned the card over anyway, searching for something, anything—

_“he’s yours now. i’m out of time. sorry”_

There. A message from Devineaux, scrawled messily in pen across the back of his own prized business card. Julia blinked. It was incredibly simple, but somehow the most ominous message yet. What did he mean, he was out of time? Just how much danger was he in?

Whatever this mess was, they were in it together now. So what if Devineaux hadn’t managed to deliver her a complete set of instructions on a silver platter? Julia had been rewriting the rules since her very first day with ACME. She wasn’t about to abandon her partner.

Julia’s gaze snapped to Player. “Tell me everything.”

“Everything?” asked Player. He sounded vaguely surprised. “I mean, sure, but I hope you’re comfortable. That’s a lot of capers to cover. Did you want to start—”

“That’s not what I mean,” interrupted Julia. She placed Devineaux’s business card on her desk and slid it deliberately forward, meeting Player’s gaze all the while. “Tell. Me. Everything.”


End file.
